Monthly Archives: November 2009
Pop culture is always about getting things wrong from the sake of entertainment. The world will end in 2012! At least it will if you listen to the crackpot Mayan calendar idiots. The Mayans would have a bit more credence with me if their nifty calendar predicted their own civilization’s downfall. Zombies are not immune to pop culture’s relentless assault on truth, so here I will elucidate and try to correct one of the biggest myths about zombies: that they eat brains.
A new semi-regular feature here will be restaurant reviews when I try a place or get around to writing about it. Here is the first.
This weekend, I went to Korean Barbeque and Sushi Bar in Newark, Delaware, the Home of Tax-Free Shopping. I’ve lived here for 4 years but never tried the place, but friends of ours recommended it highly, so my wife and I went along with our friends, a dating couple. The dress code was casual, and since it was a Saturday night my friend made reservations. I was glad he did; the place is small, about a dozen tables or so, and all but one four-top was filled when we got there.
1. I’ve written 20,000 words of my novel in 12 days. I feel very good about that milestone and the story in general. How I feel about it when time and perspective are applied, I don’t know, but I hope I’ll still like it. I think I will. The zombies are about to make their first appearance, and I’m excited and nervous. I’ve enjoyed writing a fantasy novel so far, and I hope I like writing zombie novels too.
I’ve decided to stop posting excerpts of my NaNoWriMo novel while it’s being written. I’d rather give the readers (both of them) the opportunity to read the whole thing at their own pace. This way, any alterations with the previously posted material won’t cause confusion (yes, despite my attempts to hold down my Inner Editor, I occasionally let him free to zip around, especially when he thinks of a detail that may be pertinent and belongs in an earlier section). So, for the person reading the excerpts, I hope you aren’t disappointed that you’ll have to wait about 22 more days to read it.
The door leading from the kitchen swung open, and the round form of Domic pushed into the area behind the bar bearing a plain square wooden chest. The dark wood and dull metal trim made the container easily forgettable, but the detailed instructions for its care delivered to Tevas by the innkeeper’s agent let the merchant know that it contained something more than just clothing and oddments. The strain on Domic’s face as he struggled to place it atop the bar bore evidence to the weight of the mysterious contents.
He heard the laborer grunt in response, but he did not move as directed. After a long pause, the man in the work-stained tunic finally spoke. “You’re talking to the innkeeper.” Tevas’ eyes shifted down to fix his gaze on the man once more as he leaned back against the bar he’d lately been working on. Arms folded, eyes hooded, and mouth in a half-smirk, the innkeeper said, “You’ll be paid when the goods are here and inspected. Anything I don’t like you can haul back to your wagon.”
The merchant’s arrival caused less of a stir than he’d imagined. The town over the past week had gotten used to the carts and wagons from Brethford, so Tevas did not get the novelty of being the first visitor to the town after the snows cleared. His carriage did seem to impress some of the residents, however, as Tevas noticed several of them looking at its magnificence and talking in low tones to one another as he looked out the carriage windows. He willed the sickness in his belly to be still as the carriage swayed up the final rise to the Silver Bear.
This is a continuation of the excerpts I’ve written before. Between them is an unwritten bridge scene where the stranger buys the inn in the town of Daleswall, causing quite a stir. This proceeds from that event, and is what I am doing for NaNoWriMo. Since I won’t get much opportunity to write anything else this month, I will post the story here as it progresses. It’ll be ugly at times, but I hope it doesn’t actively make you vomit.
A week had passed since the stranger bought the Silver Bear Inn so dramatically, surrounded by the majority of the small town of Daleswall. The common room was more active than usual since that night, with small numbers of folk present during all hours of the day. Claiming anything to the contrary, they were there because curiosity and the thirst for gossip demanded it. Careful eyes watched the stranger as he moved around the inn, his dog forever at his heels, repairing accumulated years of damage and rot. Carts and wagons appeared during the week from Brethford to the south, bearing large amounts of lumber and lacquers and other assorted materials. During the day, the stranger worked on the interior of the inn, moving outside during the last hour or two of dying sunlight to patch the holes in the roof. More knots of casual watchers kept an eye on him then as well, under the guise of early evening strolls and impromptu visits. Read the rest of this entry